Mafia
by SabrinaScissorhands
Summary: The Hetalia characters play a friendly game of Mafia. America, Canada, Prussia, Germany, Russia, Italy, Romano, France, Japan, brief England.


**MY FIRST HETALIA FIC~  
****Well this makes me happy(: I'm afraid a few seem a bit OOC? Oh, I dunno.  
I'm happy with it:3  
Also, I switched constantly between their country names and their people names. Hope that's not confusing? It just got tiring to say the country names over and over and over (which is how I _started_ out writing this.) **

**~x;**

"Hey, hey! Everybody! Come 'ere!" America cried happily.

"'Ey, what is it, Al?" Prussia called slightly distastefully as he made his way over to where America stood in the centre of the room, Germany at his side.

"Get everybody! I have a good idea," Alfred grinned happily.

Slowly, the curious nations gathered around in a loose circle, wondering what strange idea America had now. America stood, grinning lightly, hands clasped for a minute or so, just watching. When it was clear that no one else was coming, Germany interrupted Alfred's trance-like state.

"Hey, what'd you want us for? Better be important…"

"Oh, I just have a game for us all to play!" He exclaimed excitedly.

"Oh, dear God." Germany sighed.

"No! See, I think we all could use a break! So I have this fun game that we could play. It's called Mafia—"

"Russian Mafia?" Ivan asked.

"No, well… if you like. The game is just called _Mafia_. Anyway. Here's how you play. We are all in a town. All…" he counted quickly, "All nine of us. Four of us are _special_ townspeople. I will be the first one, the narrator! Then there is an Angel, a Sheriff, and of course the Mafia. Everyone closes their eyes. Then, the Mafia wakes up and points to someone they want to kill. Then the Angel wakes up. They choose the person they think was killed, and if they pick correctly, that person lives! They can also pick themselves, by the way. Finally, the Sheriff wakes up and accuses the person they think the Mafia is. If they are correct, I will tell them in the end when I tell my _story_ about who died! Then, you all can talk about who you think did it! If you all agree, then you can kill someone off. If it's not the Mafia, the game goes on. If it was, the townspeople win! It's all very fun, and you'll get it when we start."

It was very quiet among the group until a moment later, a certain Italian broke it.

"Okay,_ let's do it_!" Italy cried. "Don't kill me~! I have pasta waiting for me."

"Feliciano!" Ludwig said testily. "Try to be a bit less…" Italy grinned widely from across the circle, "Y'know what? Never mind."

"How do we pick who is who?" France asked slowly.

"Oooh, we were just getting there! Okay, everybody close your eyes. I am now choosing the Mafia—if I touch you, I chose you." America walked around a few times before tapping somebody's head. "Now, I will pick the Angel." Once more, Alfred touched someone. "Now, for the Sheriff." He walked around and around, tapped a nation, and then he stopped. "Everybody be asleep!" he commanded. When he was satisfied that everyone had their eyes closed, he said, "Mafia, awake."

Slowly, the Mafia opened his eyes, slightly confused.

"Who would you like to kill, Mafia?"

The Mafia debated for a moment before hesitantly pointing at someone.

America nodded. "Asleep. Now, Angel."

The Angel opened his eyes and looked around.

"Who do you wanna save?"

The Angel quickly and happily pointed to himself.

"Right. Okay, sleep. Sheriff?"

The Sheriff opened his eyes.

"Who ya wanna accuse?"

Sheriff pointed quickly and vigorously at someone.

America laughed at his verve. "Right. Go to sleep. Town, awake."

All the nations—Italy, Germany, Prussia, Japan, Canada, France, Romano, and Russia—opened their eyes.

"What now?" Feliciano asked, pressing his hands together happily.

"I tell a story! Like I said! Isn't this awesome?"

"Yeah!"

Germany sighed. Prussia laughed at him.

"Okay, now for the story." America paused, thinking. "Got it! Okay, so this person was heading out of the mall. He was headed for a fine winery not far off—"

"Oi, France!" Prussia cackled, "Buh-bye…!"

"Hey!" Francis snapped.

"Quiet!" America commanded. "Let me finish. Anyway. So he went off to the winery. Once he got there, he was down with all the little wine-holder-things. He was checking his reflection in the bottom of the bottle—"

Gilbert cast an amused glance towards Francis, who promptly crossed his arms.

"—when all of a sudden, the Mafia jumped up behind him and smacked him over the head with a wine bottle! Sadly, that night, we lost Francis."

Germany's brother fell into a near-fit of laughter.

"So, who do you think it is? Town, discuss!" Alfred stepped back happily to watch the nations discuss.

"Well, I think it was Germany!" Italy cried.

"Excuse me? What did I do?"

"Well, you're just so mean and _big_…"

"Oi, Feliciano, West ain't big _everywhere_ if you get what I mean…" Prussia made a thumbs up, moved his hand over near Ludwig, and turned his thumb to point at his crotch.

Germany rapidly smacked his brother upside the head. "You're having to much fun with this, Gil."

He cackled. "Maybe… Probably."

"Yes… I am inclined to think Germany as well, Italy," Japan piped up.

"_What_! Well, I think it was you, Japan! You were quiet until my accusation came up."

"W-well, I think it was… Russia," Canada said softly. But nobody heard Matthew except for Alfred.

"It was _Spain_!" Romano cried.

"…B-but, Spain's not _here_, Romano," Italy said.

"Yeah, but that little stupid idiot pro'ly did it from whatever stupid place it is that he is."

"Oh, yeah~! Spain!" Italy returned. Feliciano turned to Alfred. "It was Spain, America!"

"Ehm… no, it wasn't Spain…" America laughed awkwardly. "Okay! Anyway. Uh, let's move on. We're not unanimous. Well… town asleep!"

The same process repeated. The Mafia selected someone to kill, the Angel saved themselves, and the Sheriff pointed to the same person.

"Town wake! For someone else has died in our little world! They were taking a peaceful nap with their cat by their side—"

"Japan! I've got this. I'm gonna know _everybody_." Gilbert smirked happily. "I got this. 'Ey, Ludwig?"

"Er, yeah. Sure."

"See?"

"_Anyway_," America pressed, "He was sleeping when all of a sudden, his normal-looking cat turned into the Mafia! And Japan died."

Prussia fist pumped the air. "I am _so_ awesome!"

"Well, discuss!" America looked satisfied at how excited Prussia was.

"How disappointing," Japan sighed.

"Well, I do still think it was Germany." Italy nodded to himself.

"Yeah, I guess since that stupid Spain's not here, it must be Germany."

"Yes… Germany does seem—"

"_Shut up, Kiku_, **YOU'RE DEAD**," Germany seethed. "I am _not_ the Mafia!"

Gilbert snickered; Ludwig elbowed him.

America stepped in. "What does everyone else think? Do you want to kill off Ludwig here?"

"**HEY.** I object!"

"This isn't court. Who votes to kill Germany?"

He stared in disbelief as everyone but Prussia raised their hands. America eyed Prussia, Germany looked at him expectantly. It didn't matter if Gilbert raised his hand or not, they were definitely going to kill Ludwig, but he'd beat Prussia if he raised his hand.

Prussia saw what Germany was thinking. A smirk tugged his mouth up as he stared in Germany's eyes and very slowly raised his hand.

"God damn it all."

Gilbert burst into laughter. "Hey, you didn't see your face. I wasn't _going_ to…"

Germany faked a sob. "Fine. Kill me, then!" He crossed his arms with annoyance.

"Okay! Shall we kill him with a flamethrower or a gas chamber?"

"Gas chamber!" France put in.

"Why are the dead trying to get in on this? Shut up, Dead Francis. And you're wrong for that," Germany responded.

He shrugged.

"Gas chamber it is!" America cried. "Okay, you're dead Germany."

"Oh, sorry you had to go down like that West, but guess who's still alive?" Prussia gloated, "I AM~!"

"Yeah, I got that."

"And now I bet you're wondering if Germany was the Mafia… and… he was not. You've killed an innocent bystander—well done. So now, townspeople asleep! Mafia, awake. Who would you like to kill?"

The Mafia pointed to America.

"You _cannot_ kill the narrator!" Alfred sounded appalled. "Choose again! No! Someone else. Okay. Good. Now go to sleep."

The Angel and Sheriff passed by like before; the Angel saved himself and the Sheriff accused the same person.

"Town awake! Hurray! Another person dead—"

_American culture is flawed_… Japan thought.

"—this time in a… rather similar fashion to one before. This certain somebody was just leaving his house to go to the bar. Once he was there, he got very drunk on beer—"

"**HEY, PRUSSIA**," France cried, laughing. "Oi, whatcha got to say _now_?"

Gilbert glared back at France.

"Please be quiet, Francis. Anyway, he and his drunken self wandered out of the bar and walked right into the road! And then he got hit by about three cars and a semi. Stupid Prussia, now he's dead."

Prussia cursed loudly.

France laughed loudly.

"Karma's a bitch, huh?"

"Shut up, Francis. You know you have a female name?"

France narrowed his eyes at Prussia. "That is because my beauty could _not_ be captured with—"

"Enough. Gil, you're dead."

"…Right." He crossed his arms.

"Any accusations?" Alfred questioned.

"I believe it was Romano," Russia said, piping up from his rather quiet stretch.

"Wha-? Why me?"

"Because you're quite vulgar."

"Why I oughtta—"

"Exactly what I was getting at, Lovino."

"Hmph."

"Well, I w-was thinking Iv-Iva—"

Italy cut Canada off. "I think it was Russia!"

Matthew's face fell. "That."

"Hm, I do believe we are not able to agree. We'll continue with another killing! Town asleep!"

The Mafia, the Angel, and the Sheriff all pointed… the Angel and Sheriff as they did before.

"Ooo, this one's interesting! Everyone wake up! Alright, so we almost—"

"I think it was France."

"Gilbert, he's dead already. I haven't even gotten to tell the story yet! You cannot accuse yet, mostly because you are _dead_. Now let me start the story. Anyway. A merry little boy was skipping down a deserted road with a bowl of pasta on his head."

"Oh no, Alfred!" Italy yelled. "I can't die, I—!"

"Quiet. So he was all alone and night was falling. Suddenly, he was caught off guard and someone grabbed him by the neck and pulled him backwards! But luckily, when they pulled him, the bowl of pasta fell and distracted the attacker! Italy made it away safely, for the Angel saved him." America gave Italy an amused glance.

"Veeee~! Hurray!"

"Yup. Would we like to point the finger at somebody?"

"Romano! It was you!" Italy exclaimed.

"What? But I'm your brother! I wouldn't kill you!"

"That's what you want everyone to think!"

"That's quite deep for you, Italy," Russia put in. "I must side with you."

"Hurray!" Feliciano grinned.

"I will consent," Matthew said softly.

"Then let's kill 'im!" America grinned, clapping merrily.

"Wh—_**really**_?" Lovino sulked.

"Yep! How should we kill him?"

"Death by pastaaaa~!" Italy interjected.

"I don't know what that entails but alright! Death by pasta!"

"What a noble way to go down, Romano," Italy said with a nod.

He grumbled, "Stupid… stupid… bet it's that stupid idiot… Spain… idiot… stupid bitch…"

Alfred laughed softly. "Yes! We have killed another not-Mafia. But we have succeeded in killing the Sheriff. I suppose that's okay, though, for he never did accuse correctly. I suppose it's not much of a loss—"

"Hey!"

"—So now we will move on once more…"

The pointing of fingers commenced once again.

"Well, we've got a bystander and the Angel and the Mafia left in our little town. Wake up so I can tell you who's dying. Alright, so our victim today was sitting outside his house in the snow—"

"Wonder who that could be, huh Russia?" Gilbert asked, smirking.

"Oh no…" Ivan's face dropped.

"I haven't pronounced you dead yet! Quit sulking! Let me finish. So he got up and went into the yard. As he stood there, an innocent looking snow man morphed into the Mafia!" America gasped dramatically, "And he pulled out a saw!"

"From where, might I ask?" Germany interjected.

"Not sure, don't hate Ludwig! I'm running out of ideas, and we're almost done. So yes. Russia was decapitated by the snowman _Russian_ Mafia."

"Oh… how… oh no."

"Well, that leaves us with just two people. The selfish Angel and the Mafia. We could go another round, but we know what will happen. So I'll just narrate the ending of our epic saga."

"Wait! Who is this other?" Italy cried.

"Ehm, Canada."

"Excuse me?" Italy turned, met Matthew's eyes, and then grinned. "Oh! Hi there~!"

"Oh, hello."

"Anyway," Alfred continued, "The Angel and the Mafia were battling it out! They fought back and forth, killing and saving! And then suddenly… The Mafia turned into Voldemort, and the Angel turned into Harry!" America gasped, once more, for dramatic effect. "It was like that scene with the wands reacting and—"

Little blonde England stuck his head through the door at that point. "**QUIT STEALING MY LITERATURE, ALFRED!**" And with that, Arthur left.

"Well that was strange. Anyway, it was like that. And suddenly… the magical-ness all back-fired and the Angel and the Mafia died! And so everybody in the town was dead except for _**AMERICA**_~!" America grinned.

"…That's horrible," Japan said slowly. "So, who was the Mafia?"

"Canada was!" Alfred exclaimed happily.

"Come again?" Kiku looked perplexed.

"Didn't we just go over who Canada was?" America gasped exhaustedly. "Mat, wave."

Canada slowly waved.

"Ohh!" Everyone said with sudden realisation.

Matthew sighed. "Someday, I really will come up and kill you all," he whispered. "I'll be the Canadian Mafia. But no one will know it, and I'll get away with all of it."

The nations stared.

"…Right…"

* * *

**WHOA~ I wanna thank everyone for the feedback I got on this! In the first twelve hours of being posted (At 11 PM o.o), 8 Favourites ^.^**

**VIELEN DANK!:D**


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